"What is a Miracle?" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | August 2, 2020

Proper 13, Year A | August 2, 2020

Isaiah 55:1-5 | Psalm 145:1-8; 15-22 | Matthew 14:13-21

In the name of God, who is to us Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

When you think of miracles in the Bible, what is the first story that comes to mind? Are you a “walking on water” kind of person; or are the healing stories the ones that jump out the most in your memory? Do you love the story of Jesus’ first miracle in the Gospel of John, when Jesus turns water into wine at the wedding feast? Or perhaps you are a fan of exorcisms. Miracles in the Bible are vast and varied. One of the stories that I remember the most, after years of Sunday school lessons, is the story of the feeding of the multitude. Not only does this story appear throughout all four Gospels. It also happens multiple times in some gospel narratives - as in the Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus feeds five thousand men (plus women and children) in chapter 14, and then again feeds a crowd of four thousand men (plus women and children) in chapter 15, several miracles later.

One of the hallmarks of a miracle is that it defies our understanding of the natural natural order of things. This is certainly true in the story of the feeding of the five thousand, which we read today in the gospel of Matthew. This miracle of feeding is almost like a magic trick. One second, Jesus is holding five loaves and two fishes. Two verses later, having distributed this food, the disciples collect leftovers - and there are twelve baskets full! Basic, elementary math suggests that this is not possible. Five plus two does not equal twelve - and that’s even more so the case when five and two are not additive, but subtractive numbers. The feeding of the five thousand is miraculous for precisely this reason: it doesn’t add up. And that is one of the blessings of miracles, in Jesus’ ministry. Beyond the tangible, literal benefit of Jesus’ miracles on the people he serves - people who are healed, people who are fed - the miracles also remind us that there is more to life than the so-called “natural order of things.” Miracles defy reality. And in doing so, they show us that other realities may be possible. A new world order is possible. The kingdom of heaven is possible - in fact, it is already present among us in big and small ways.

Today I would like to talk about miracles, in light of our gospel reading. Specifically, I want to explore how this story of the feeding of the five thousand provides insight into what a miracle is, and what a miracle is not.

I should start by saying that I try not to use the word miracle lightly. Nowadays there is a tendency to refer to simple, everyday blessings as miracles - and if we are using a certain definition of the word miracle, that may very well be true. By this definition, things that are miracles include: a perfect cup of iced coffee on a hot day; a flower growing up through a crack in the concrete; the smile of a stranger. Now these are all wonderful things. I would go even one step further to say that these are all signs of grace - gifts from God that are freely given, though not necessarily earned or deserved. Nevertheless, I would not call these little things miracles. For something to be a miracle I think it has to go a step further. For something to be a miracle, I think it has to draw us out of the world as we understand it; and give us a glimpse of the world as it could be.

So, what is a miracle? Let’s start with some examples of what a miracle is not.

First, a miracle is not a solution to your grief. I bring this up because one of the primary settings in which we, today talk about miracles is in the context of the hospital, when a loved one is sick or close to death. In such cases we sometimes pray for a miracle, like the healing of people in the New Testament. And in some cases I think God does prolong the lives of those we love. But a miracle is alas, never, a cure for grief. We will still lose people we love. Even Jesus, the author of miracles in the New Testament, loses someone he loves. Immediately before our gospel passage today, Jesus has just learned about the death of John the Baptist. He retreats to a deserted place, perhaps to grieve, and this is where the crowds meet him. Jesus does not raise John from the dead, in the way that he raises Lazarus or the daughter of Jairus. And it’s worth noting that even in those other stories, grief is still present, in that period of uncertainty after a loved one is lost. Miracles are not a cure for grief. It seems that grief is, in and of itself, a deeply human emotion; an inevitable part of this life that God has blessed us with.

And while miracles are not a cure for grief, I believe that they are affirmations of life. The feeding of the five thousand acknowledges one of the most basic human needs - the need for food and sustenance. In providing food for the multitude, Jesus shows that even in times of grief it is still possible to affirm life - to eat, and drink, and be together, much in the way that people sometimes gather for food after a wake or a funeral. Miracles bring people together, and bring people into a greater awareness of what a gift it is to be alive.

Second, miracles are not selfish. It strikes me that so many of the miracles that we pray for in modern times have their roots in some kind of selfish desire. Perhaps you have longed for the miracle of winning the lottery. Or perhaps you have wanted the miracle of a child or grandchild, but fertility issues have gotten in the way. These longings for a modern miracle may not be wholly selfish, but there is at least an aspect of selfishness in these longings - wanting something for oneself. Even the prayer for a miracle at a hospital bedside is, to a degree, selfish - when you love someone so much you just want them to stay with you, whatever the cost, for a little while longer. The kinds of modern miracles that we pray for are often rooted in at least some degree of selfishness. And yet the feeding of the five thousand never would have happened if the owners of the two fish, and five loaves of bread, had kept these items to themselves.

Miracles are not selfish. On the contrary I think that true miracles, Biblical miracles, God-given miracles are always somehow communal; somehow shared. When the disciples brought the five loaves and two fishes to Jesus, they had to trust that what was best for everyone would also be best for them. So too, we have to trust that what’s best for everyone - for five thousand people and beyond; for all men, women, and children and beyond - is best for us. This is the way that Jesus taught us to live. This is the way that Jesus taught us to imagine a world beyond our narrow conception of what is possible. It is surprising to me how often we are told just the opposite, in our contemporary culture. How often have you been told that doing what’s best for yourself will ultimately, eventually, trickle down and be good for others? Instead this is the gospel truth: caring for the common good of the world will bring us greater joy, greater health, greater satisfaction - than we ever could have had if we lived into the lie that selfish, survival of the fittest is the only way to live. Perhaps it goes against the “natural order of things” to put the common good before our own. But that is what miracles are all about. That is what the kingdom of God is all about.

Third, and finally, miracles are not the same thing as charity. I say this as a person who believes that charity is important, and good. It is meaningful to give of your plenty to people who have few. And yet, the feeding of the five thousand would not have been possible if Jesus had simply relied on charity. A rich man did not drive by with a food truck full of enough loaves and fishes for five thousand. Instead, the feeding of the five thousand was a combination of an act of charity - the donation of two fish and five loaves - coupled with a radical re-ordering of the world as we know it.

In other words, miracles are not about charity. They are about transformation. Again, I say this as a person who believes that charity is necessary and good. I say this as a person who volunteers my time and money to causes that alleviate hunger and other injustices in the City of New Haven and beyond. And yet, if all I ever did was donate time and money, people would still be hungry. And people will remain hungry until we find ways to break through what seems to be the “natural order of things,” and into a new reality. Yes, I am talking about systemic change. I am talking about looking at the roots of why some groups of people - hispanic and black Americans, in particular - are statistically more likely to experience food insecurity than Americans at large. We need to change the reality of hunger and other injustices at the root cause - because that is what Jesus did when he imagined a new world order; a kingdom of heaven that we might create here on earth. Miracles are about transformation. And while we may not be able to perform the kind of cosmic transformations that Jesus made possible in his ministry on earth, we can ask ourselves what it means to transform reality today. We can ask ourselves what better realities are within reach, so close, if only we let go of our stubborn insistence on the way things have always been.

I wonder: when was the last time you prayed for a miracle? When was the last time you prayed for resolution to a seemingly insurmountable problem? Perhaps your prayer was deeply personal - perhaps you asked for more time with a loved one, or for financial stability, or for freedom from depression. Or perhaps your prayer was related to the struggles of our time. Perhaps you prayed for a miracle to end the spread of the coronavirus. Perhaps you prayed for a miracle to end racism, that sin we had though we moved past but are still very much grappling with today. When was the last time you prayed for a miracle?

For my own part, I will say that I certainly don’t expect miracles today, at least not in the way we read about Jesus’ miracle ministry in the New Testament. Nevertheless, the miracles of Jesus are an example for how we all might live in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Are you caught up in grief, or any other emotion? Celebrate life, and draw near the people you love. Are you coping with the uncertainty of the future through selfishness, clinging to your own wealth and stability while others are struggling? Tend to the needs of those whose lives are more uprooted than your own, and discover a deeper sense of meaning and purpose. Are you trying to help others here and there, with acts of charity and kindness? Go further and ask how we can transform this world, so that others will be less vulnerable in the future.

Perhaps the age of miracles is long past, along with the span of Jesus’ embodied ministry here on earth. And yet we are still a part of the transformative work that Jesus began - and it is still very much physical, tangible, transformative work. Let us follow in the example of the Apostle Paul, who writes, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2).

Amen.

Shortened version:

In the name of God, who is to us Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

For my own part, I will say that I certainly don’t expect miracles today, at least not in the way we read about Jesus’ miracle ministry in the New Testament. Nevertheless, I believe we get a taste of the miraculous whenever we see the world not as it is, but as it could be. We get a taste of the miraculous whenever we look beyond the status quo, the so-called “natural order” of things, and instead imagine what the kingdom of heaven might look like here on earth.

Miracles are all about transformation. And while we may not be able to perform the kind of cosmic transformations that Jesus made possible in his ministry on earth, we can ask ourselves what it means to transform reality today. We can ask ourselves what better realities are within reach, so close, if only we let go of our stubborn insistence on the way things have always been.

And so, how might we follow in the footsteps of Jesus’ miracle ministry, today? Perhaps we might follow this advice from the Apostle Paul in the book of Romans, as he writes: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). Amen.

Heidi ThorsenAugust 2, 2020